I sat picking the little chips of wood out the wallpaper. Got a splinter under the nail of my index finger and now it’s all gone red and sore. Still, I managed to pick enough off to make the shape of a face and a pair of glasses. Tomorrow I’ll put the nose and mouth in. It’s a nervous thing. It’s what I do whilst waiting to have my skull bashed in.
At just gone twelve I phoned Verity. She answered in her happy singing northern accent. She always sounds like she can only ever receive good news. I disguised my voice the best I could :
“Hiya, you deserve everything your conscience brings you... you Fucking Shitfly!” Then I just hung there listening. Waiting for the phone to go dead. It never did.
“Tristram, is that you? If it isn’t there’s someone in your flat making twisted telephone calls to me!”
(Shit! Can’t I do anything without getting caught.) “Errr, Yeah it’s me... YOU FUCKING SHITFLY!” I screamed. And then as sweet and as predictable as she is, Verity said the words I’d been wanting to hear. “I think this means you need help. I’m coming over.”
And that’s just it. That was my point. Anyone who says such things does need help. Real intense psychotherapy type help. John needs help. That’s so obvious now.
Tristram's Birthday: Sunday 3rd October
Cheap jam sponge or something a little more exciting? How will Mr Spencer celebrate his 32nd year in hell?
Trolley Dash August 2010
Did Tristram accidently pick up a REAL bargain?
Brian the Postboy's gift to John: an ankle bracelet inscribed 'Super Dong'
Scrap metal or has John been 'tagged'. Is Tristram Spencer really the only fated man in town?
The Dangerous Dandy by Barbara Cartland
Will Tristram finally be brought to account for his love of Babs? And: is 25 years hard labour enough?
An Influx of Pigeons
Is there still some hope for the fated Mr Spencer?
I'm thinking what you need is some ECT.
ReplyDeleteI have a tazer and I think I may live local to you because I just saw a scrap of wallpaper in the street and it was shaped like a face and pair of glasses.
Nick
Maybe it was just the splinter talking?
ReplyDeleteo my gosh i laughed so hard in spite of myself...i have never laughed this much at a post...you have a gift, you effing effer...(one of my therapist friends and i invented "f" therapy...when a client calls you say "what the f do you want you fing f-r" into the phone. they never call back. i dont know how you found my blog, but im glad u did.
ReplyDeleteI think I have just fallen in love with your blog. Perhaps we can wait together... :)
ReplyDeleteThe Scrybe,
ReplyDeleteOf course we can wait together. And I see your blog is called Waitng for Dawn! Of course I had to follow. X
@ Nick: No doubt you're right. But that's it isn't it, while trying to proove someone else is crazy the person always ends up doing so by acting even more insane than the other. Human behaviour is weird, and the more serious we think we are the more stupid it gets. X
ReplyDelete@ asexual: it could well have been... or a complete nutjob! ;) X
@ Angel-Star: I'm glad you enjoyed it. I have to admit I was laughing myself a little writing it. I had to keep stopping and trying to rid my mind of the image. haha. Yeah, I like the 'F' therapy. It's a great way to have a quiet day. I might try it. X